


The Bed Ships It

by chromochaotic



Series: Thank You Tumblr [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkwardness, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromochaotic/pseuds/chromochaotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is certainly excited to room with his best friend Jean during their class's overnight field trip. That is, until he lays eyes on the tiny hotel bed they'll have to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bed Ships It

**Author's Note:**

> The teenage awkwardness is strong in this one. 
> 
> (Reposting from tumblr again. AO3's formatting is just so nice...)

“Any complaints, and you won’t make it back to campus alive. Got it?”

Jean and Marco gulped and nodded frantically at Mr. Levi.

The teacher regarded them with a particularly menacing look of disinterested enmity, before turning away from the open door of their hotel room. “Remember,” he added, even as he began striding down the hallway toward the teachers’ rooms, “the wake up call is at 6:30 AM, bus leaves for the museum at 7:15. Do  _not_ make me wait.”

After a moment of fearful trembling, Marco called out, “Y-yes sir,” but Levi had already shut the door of his own hotel room.

Jean, hearing the far-off click, exhaled deeply and turned to Marco. “Geez, did he seem even more uptight than usual to you?”

Marco sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Well, it’s understandable, I guess. We were the last room he had to take care of  _after_ he had to watch over our bus for that entire 8-hour ride. You have to admit we’re not exactly the calmest class.”

“Pffft,” Jean huffed as he turned away, but apparently couldn’t come up with a response. His eyes lit up as they fell on the interior of their room, though. “Haha, Marco, check it out; we got a TV!”

_He’s such a kid._ Marco smiled as Jean dashed over to the television, immediately flipping it on and trying to figure out the redistributed channels.

“Okay, 47 is comedy… 48’s cooking…” he mumbled.

Marco left Jean to his task, shutting the door and surveying the rest of the room. It looked like the school really did try to give them a comfortable place to stay during their overnight field trip. They had a small desk, a closet, a pretty nice bathroom with an actual bath tub-shower combination. Maybe the school was finally showing the students some regard, with this kind of—

And then his eyes fell on the bed. Tucked behind the corner of the bathroom, Marco hadn’t initially gotten a clear view of it from the entryway. Now that he studied it, though, he could feel his shoulders hiking up with tension.

Jean took notice of the way Marco’s posture stiffened. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, following the other boy’s line of sight. “You look like a raccoon broke in here or some—… thing.  _Christ_ , really?”

“That bed is, uh,” Marco started weakly, “…pretty small.”

Jean’s eyes darted to Marco, before landing back on the bed. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. He walked toward it, running a hand over the top comforter and furrowing his eyebrows. “Guess we know how the school saved money on this trip, huh? Couldn’t even get us double rooms, for fuck’s sake.”

“Do you… do you think we should, uh, call in about it?” Marco glanced at Jean nervously. “I mean, I think they bring up extra mattresses for this kind of thing, we’d just have to check with Mr. Levi and—”

Jean’s eyes widened just as Marco’s did, gazes snapping to each other apprehensively. Both of them remembered Mr. Levi’s barely-concealed look of murderous antipathy from before.

“Well, uh… We could…” Jean seemed to struggle to come up with an idea.

Marco rubbed at his face, turning over the situation as calmly as he could.

Which was not calm at all, admittedly. Because, really, he didn’t know what the right thing to do was in this situation, considering in a matter of minutes he could be sleeping in a  _tiny_  bed with the same boy he had a  _massive_ crush on. Marco wasn’t sure how, but by some miracle Jean still didn’t seem to be aware of huge torch he held for the other boy; their dearly-valued friendship was still intact, even as Marco tried to balance on the knife’s edge of growing close to his companion and maintaining distance.

He should have known that requesting to room together on this trip was toeing the line, but that didn’t help things now. Should Marco try to play off the setup as no big deal? Or would that seem like he was too eager about it all? He could insist that he sleep on the floor and Jean take the bed… Or would that be excessive, and get Jean wondering why Marco was so  _particularly_ nervous?

Marco, after what felt like extensive internal deliberation (but was actually very brief; in fact, he was so internally wrapped up that he didn’t notice Jean’s own share of stiff, awkward shuffling on the other side of the bed), decided that outward indifference might be the best route. “Hey, it’s not worth worrying about,” he spoke lightly. “We’re both dead tired, anyway, right?”

Jean blinked, then let out a breathy laugh of relief. “Yeah.” Rolling his shoulders, Jean added, “Man, that bus ride was awful though. I feel so gross! Cramped up for eight hours, that was a whole world of suck, haha.”

Marco chuckled, free of tension once again. “I thought the round of singing TV themes was fun.” His tone took on a teasing, sing-song quality as he approached his overnight bag. “You sounded  _pretty good_ during the Pokemon theme, you know. Do you practice it a lot?” he asked, smiling.

“Hell yeah I do!” Jean replied unrepentantly. “Every night in the shower. Speaking of,” he said, and Marco turned to see him gesturing toward the bathroom while holding a bundle of pajamas and bottles, “mind if I hog that for a bit? Gotta wash 8 hours of scratchy upholstery off my skin.”

“No, nah, go for it.” Marco laughed and bent over to keep unpacking his things.

Jean hummed his thanks and slipped into the bathroom, leaving Marco to get himself ready to sleep. Luckily, the bath/shower set were sequestered in their own attachment to the bathroom; Marco went about his business brushing his teeth, slipping into boxers and one of his favorite old band tees, and settling on his side in the comfy, but definitely cramped, bed.

He didn’t feel particularly tired yet. With not much else to do, Marco unlocked his phone’s music app and set an album playing, humming along to the familiar verses as he navigated to the browser and passed time. He felt relaxed again, right up until the song he liked best started. The thrumming electric guitar always got his heart going a little faster, no matter what. Then there were the lyrics, cutting through the air and getting Marco thinking about teenagers, being alive and rebellious, feeling the air in his lungs. He wondered if Jean ever sang this song in the shower like he did. Jean would probably look great, mouth stretched into a wild grin as he belted out the words… Even better if he sang it with rivulets of water slipping along his temple, to his neck, down his chest…

Marco jolted out of his thoughts when he heard a small crash from behind him. Twisting around, he saw Jean slumped awkwardly against the bathroom door, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He seemed to have stumbled to end up that way, and Marco couldn’t help but be endeared by the dorky way his arms were splayed out, his “zombie apocalypse committee” shirt rumpled from where it was caught on the door handle.

“Having a little trouble there?” Marco asked, eyebrow raised in amusement as he prayed his blush wasn’t obvious.

Jean tried to speak around the foam of his toothpaste. When Marco laughed, he leveled a glare at the other boy, dashed into the bathroom to spit and wash his mouth out, then returned to try again. “Uh, I just said, ‘I think I’m more tired than I thought.’” He ran a hand through his still-damp hair bashfully.

Marco sat up a little straighter (absolutely  _not_ distracted by the way Jean’s movement made his undercut more pronounced, the longer strands on top now spiked slightly and highlighting the defined sharpness of his profile). “Well, who wouldn’t be?” he asked, voice only a tiny bit strained. Marco knew what came next, and could only pray nothing would happen tonight that might mess up their friendship. He forced out a laugh. “Well, we’ll be walking all day tomorrow, so we best get some rest now.” Marco moved to the very edge of the bed, paused the music on his phone, and reached for the bedside lamp.

The light clicked off. Marco felt the bed dip behind him as Jean slid in, and had to consciously unclench the muscles in his back and shoulders.

“Er… uh, sleep well, Marco.”

Marco inhaled softly. “Goodnight, Jean,” he said to the warm darkness.

For a moment, both of them were still. Then Jean started rustling around in the covers, apparently trying to get actually comfortable before he slept.

_Breathe in… Out…_  Marco thought.  _In… Ou—how is he lying down?_ he suddenly wondered. Was Jean going to end up turned away from him? Or would they be spooning without touching, so that Jean didn’t have to lay ramrod straight in order to keep his back from brushing Marco’s? What if… What if Jean curled contentedly only inches away from him, his torso, lean and warm, parallel to his own across the small stretch of mattress? If Marco concentrated hard enough, would he feel Jean’s breath against his neck, puffing out from between his relaxed lips?

The images in his head started to outweigh the shrill, logical voice telling him to calm down, and Marco’s body grew hot with mortified arousal.

Of course, that was when Jean’s elbow brushed against his back. Marco jumped.

“Sorry!” Jean hissed.

Marco nodded though the movement likely went unseen, before settling back down. He had almost quieted his racing heart when, again—Jean’s leg slid along his own.

This ended up with Marco nearly falling onto the floor. Jean, detecting rapid, frantic balancing movements, reached a hand out to search for Marco’s form in the dark. “Shit, god, I’m sorry—I just can’t get—are you okay?”

Marco felt the hand land near his own and grabbed it. “Y-yeah,” he answered from his precarious spot on the mattress. His voice definitely shook.

Jean appeared to mull something over, staring at Marco as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. Finally, he tugged his arm so that Marco was forced to lie closer to him.

_Oh God_. Marco made a high, questioning noise; after all, they were facing each other now, with Jean’s arms undeniably circled around Marco. His chest rose and fell beneath Marco’s inwardly curled hands.

“I just thought,” Jean murmured, and his breath washed over the crown of Marco’s head. “…This bed is small enough. We might as well share what space we have.”

Marco thought,  _I’m done for_.

Jean shifted their positions just slightly, ostensibly for comfort, and Marco could barely remember how to breathe regularly with each adjustment. The other boy tucked Marco’s head beneath his chin; tangled their feet carefully together; wrapped his arms just a tad tighter around his friend’s waist.

Marco’s eyes stared wide into the darkness. He could feel Jean’s collar bones through his shirt. Smell his friend’s shampoo faintly. Was, was that Jean’s hand, trailing lightly against the small of his back…?

This couldn’t end well. Maybe if they were siblings, or really just friends, ( _or if you were a better friend_ his mind added treacherously) but there was no way he’d be able to sleep wrapped up in Jean like this. Especially if they were facing each other, because then… Well… Marco thanked whatever higher power there was for the moderate gap currently between their crotches.

“Jean,” he whispered, “I’ve got to, uh, turn over. I, I can’t sleep on this side, okay? So just let me…”

In the ensuing silence, Marco couldn’t bring his eyes to where Jean’s face must have been. He kept them low as he disentangled himself and rolled over. Jean was motionless behind him.

“We… we could still… share space,” Marco murmured, peering hesitantly over his shoulder but only really looking toward Jean’s chest.

Another short silence, and then: “If you think it makes sense.” Jean was then quiet, and particularly still, as Marco neared him again. Nevertheless, he lifted his arm to allow Marco to lie practically against him. After the rustling of the sheets had subsided, the only sound was their soft breathing. Marco calmed, just slightly. Maybe things could be okay… If he fell asleep soon enough, they would get through this night, and it would eventually fade away into a vague memory. Maybe.

Ever so minutely, Marco let his body relax into Jean’s.

And he realized Jean was hard, hot against his ass.

“J-Jean?!” Marco squeaked.

The other boy growled and pushed himself away from Marco. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed.

Marco raised himself onto his arms. Finally, in the dim light of the room, he could see Jean lying curled away from him, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes.

“I—I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean for this to—” he cut off, voice cracking. Marco’s heart ached. “ _Fuck,_ God, please don’t hate me, I wouldn’t be able to—without you, I—“

Marco shoved himself between Jean’s elbows and kissed him.

It was short. After he’d pressed his lips against Jean’s long enough to show how he felt, he pulled back. Jean had lifted his hands away from his face. His expression wavered on the edge of wonder.

“Y-you… like me?”

Marco breathed rapidly, kind of feeling nauseous. “Yeah. Yeah, I—you like me?”

Jean just stared at him. His eyes flicked down, just for a moment, to his boner, before returning to Marco. His expression was completely confused now. “I…  _Obviously?_ ” There was a pause, and then he let out a strange, hysteric laugh.

Marco hiccuped in a similar, single laugh, jerking down towards Jean and finally, finally planting his lips on Jean’s again.

They tried to kiss a little longer this time, and it was weird, and awkward—Jean had to whine and push against Marco’s chest, making the other flinch away fearfully, but only so that Jean could lie back properly. He pulled Marco back over him, pulled his head back down and then—the third time was the charm.

Their lips melded together softly, warm and lovely as they angled their heads around. Carefully, Jean placed his hands back around Marco’s waist; Marco rubbed his thumbs in small circles against Jean’s collar bones, to show he was okay with it. They kissed gently like this, sweetly, and Marco smiled as he placed a few smaller pecks against the corners of Jean’s mouth. The other boy chuckled, barely audible, before bringing his lips up to Marco’s.

Apparently his slightly evasive kisses had made Jean impatient as, bluntly, he pushed the wet tip of his tongue to the seam of Marco’s lips.

Marco gulped as a spark of heat twisted in his stomach. Shyly, he parted his lips, and Jean’s tongue slid in. They didn’t know how to do this either, of course; for a moment the muscle just lied there wetly. Then, Jean cautiously moved it, looping around Marco’s tongue and then retreating back into his own mouth.

Marco shivered, because—erm, that felt nice. He pressed his lips a touch harder against Jean’s, a little needily, and tried not to care about the tiny whine that escaped his throat.

A low noise replied from Jean’s mouth, and Marco wondered if it really was possible to feel a smirk in a kiss. Regardless, he nudged his tongue forward, where it was met readily by Jean’s. They slid together, slowly, a generally nice and pleasant feeling coming from the alternately rough and slick gliding between their lips.

Marco felt more of that heat tickle across his skin, and swallowed. His mouth had started watering.

Jean let out a happy exhale through his nose. Tilting his head and thrusting his tongue particularly deep in Marco’s mouth—and, wow, Marco felt so  _full—_ Jean started to slide his hands up Marco’s back. His palms pressed against the already warm fabric of his shirt, and Marco shivered, the tugging causing the hem to ride up slightly along his back.

Jean realized the change and, carefully, placed one hand on the newly exposed skin. It stilled there, waiting. For permission.

Marco paused to think. Then, he hummed and lowered himself closer to Jean, resting his body fully on top of the other’s. He shivered a little into the kiss, Jean’s hands now freely mapping their way up the planes of his back.

When Jean’s fingers brushed an especially sensitive spot, nestled somewhere between his spine and the bottom of his shoulder blade, Marco gasped against Jean’s lips.

The reaction made Jean crack an eye open. Curiously, he grazed his hand over the same spot; and again, Marco trembled, letting out a small whine when Jean smiled in the middle of their kiss.

“You sensitive there?” he breathed, grinning warmly at Marco.

“I—I guess, but, don’t just keep touching there. I—that’s not fair,” he objected. His cheeks and ears felt hot.

Jean sighed, pressing a small kiss to Marco’s lips again. “Okay. To be fair.”

Marco rolled his eyes, but, suddenly—Jean was pushing at his shoulders, twisting a little—he caused them to roll over, nearly falling out of the tiny bed again.

As Marco’s back settled, he glanced up at Jean, wide-eyed. The other boy’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he took in the sight of Marco lying bewildered but trusting beneath him, before a sort of strangled sound came out. He crashed his mouth down onto Marco’s and then they  _really_ started moving against each other.

Marco felt Jean’s hands rubbing across his chest, squeezing over his shoulders before running down to his stomach; his tongue swirled around Marco’s mouth, their now abused lips slipping against each other messily. In return, Marco slid his hands beneath Jean’s shirt and clung to the lean muscle of his ribcage. Jean ground his hardness against Marco’s, and,  _god._

They stretched and groaned against each other. All at once, everything felt good; the smooth glide of the sheets against Marco’s legs; the warm press of Jean’s cock against the inside of his groin; the quick pinch of Jean’s fingers at his his chest; the sloppy skim of Jean’s lips against his own, then against his jaw, on his neck, on his clavicle.

“J-Jean,” Marco quavered. He could feel Jean’s tongue sliding, wet and thick, against his collar bone. He ran into the edge of Marco’s shirt, however, and stopped, moving back up to press his flushing face close to Marco’s in another lustful kiss.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jean at last gasped against Marco’s lips, “why on Earth didn’t we do this sooner?” He stared down at Marco, his smile crooked, but his eyes shining with earnest affection.

Marco chuckled, lips pulled into a timid smile. “We just didn’t know. I mean,” he laughed, but it sounded the tiniest bit tense, “who would’ve thought, you know. That you’d want me?”

Jean stared at Marco so incredulously, you’d have thought he’d admitted to enjoying Coach Shadis’ attempts to teach sex-ed. He leaned over a little, flicking the light on, then returned his gaze to Marco. “ _Really?_  Christ, Marco. Did you think I couldn’t  _see_ you?” He laughed too, and it made Marco unwind a bit.

Smiling, Jean leaned in and started to talk against Marco’s lips. “There were  _so many times,_ Marco. When, when I just wanted to  _have you_.”

Marco blinked, surprised. Jean continued, his thumbs brushing against Marco’s jaw, mouth still millimeters from Marco’s. “Every time you’d smile at me,” he breathed. He moved his nose so that it bumped its way along Marco’s. “Every time you’d bite your lip, trying not to laugh at me,” he chuckled, but his breath was starting to get heavy now. “When you stretch in first period, and your—your shirt goes up and—” he was breathing hard, lips brushing over Marco’s forehead and eyelids. “When you sleep over and wake up with your hair messed up, murmuring all sleepy at me.” His lips pressed intermittent kisses to Marco’s. “I mean,  _just now_ , when you were getting things out of you bag and your—your ass was like—like—and then when I was brushing my teeth, and I came out and saw you lying there, with your long legs all tangled in the sheets and leaning around like you were waiting  _just for me._ ”

Marco laughed, high and delirious and happy; he couldn’t grab at Jean fast enough, one hand tangling in the uneven length of his hair, the other clutching at his back and pressing them both harder into their messy kiss.

Jean hummed into it, then lifted himself away with a pop. “W-what about you? Did you…?”

Marco covered his bright red face with his hands, giggling quickly. “Jean, I—I can’t even begin.”

“Try,” Jean breathed, nudging Marco’s arms away to kiss along the exposed curve of his neck.

Marco shivered at the touch. Swallowing, he started, “When, when you drive me places and your hands are s-so solid on the wheel.” Jean sighed in approval, tongue slipping out to wet his lips again. “When you meet my eyes in the middle of a crowd, and—“ Marco sucked in a breath through his nose as Jean licked inquisitively at his ear. “—you smile like it’s just for me. And,  _o-oh, do that again,_ when you sleep over and your voice slides so low because it’s j-just us and,” Marco paused; Jean had lifted his face to watch Marco’s, blinking rapidly. Marco only smiled and tilted his head up invitingly, finishing, “You’re so amazing and brilliant, and  _so hot_ that I never thought—”

Jean dove in for another kiss, apparently hearing enough. His hands worked excitedly at pushing up Marco’s shirt until it caught underneath his arms.

“H-hold on,” Marco pushed Jean away, laughing, “we won’t get anywhere like this.” He couldn’t ignore the way Jean gazed fixedly at his chest, though, focused on the shifting muscles as Marco flushed and tugged his t-shirt over his head. “You too,” Marco said, a bit petulantly.

Jean stared dumbly, before he jerked with a nod; as soon as the hem had cleared his head, he swept Marco’s wrists into his hands, pinning them by his sides, then ducked down to lick at Marco’s chest.

“A-ah!” Marco gasped.  _Woah_ , no one had ever told him that a tongue on his nipple would feel  _that good_. Where, where did Jean suddenly get this from? Marco looked down, and the sight was almost too much to take: Jean, bare from the waist up, had his eyes closed, lashes fanned against his refined cheeks, expression a picture of perfect contentment as his tongue made a wet circle on Marco’s nipple. He moved his lips closer, and his head bobbed gently in time with soft sounds of sucking. Marco couldn’t take it, hands twitching in Jean’s grip, legs spreading to try and grind up against his friend’s stomach. Jean, prolonging the onslaught just a bit longer, eventually popped off and smiled wickedly up at Marco.

With the release of his hands, Marco pushed and pulled at Jean’s shoulders, urging the grinning teen up until his face was above Marco’s again. His smirk vanished into a satisfying gasp when Marco used the opportunity to shove his hand down Jean’s shorts and wrap it around his cock.

“What you did  _definitely_ wasn’t fair,” Marco panted, smiling even though Jean’s eyes weren’t able to focus on him. Despite the stutter of his hand, when Marco brought it up and down Jean’s length, the other boy moaned obscenely. Jean’s tongue nearly hung out of his mouth as Marco squeezed and moved a bit faster, fingers sliding over the velvety skin.

“Sh-shit,” Jean gasped, thrusting lightly into Marco’s hold. “W-wait, I, I want to—”

Marco halted, and Jean took a moment to concentrate on what he wanted to do next: with a shaking hand, he slid Marco’s boxers carefully down his hips, eyes trained on the elongated lines of Marco’s body every second. Marco let out a choked gasp as Jean started to mirror his movements, hand pumping his friend’s cock firmly.

Jean watched Marco through his lidded, yet still sharp gaze; his pupils were blown as they roved over Marco’s face, his parted, swollen lips, his rapidly panting chest, his jerking hips… With a groan, Jean started moving his hips again, the slide of his cock reminding Marco to keep up his own pleasuring.

_F-fuck_ , Marco thought, watching his friend’s face morph under his ministrations. Jean seemed to be coming apart, a thin string of drool bouncing from his wet lips. Marco wondered if his own expression was anything like that; it was definitely the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

As Marco’s hand made a pass over the head of Jean’s dick, smearing precome over it, Jean choked a bit and dropped his lips down to Marco’s.

“A-ah, Marco, r-right now you—” Jean cut off to lick his way into Marco’s mouth.

“Y-you too,” Marco gasped, before arching his back so that his chest slid sweatily against his friend’s.

Jean’s whole body jerked; he was close, he had to be close, and the thought made Marco screw his eyes shut. Thankfully, Jean just seemed to  _know_  and picked his own movements up.

It left Marco shuddering into Jean’s hands and lips. Jean kissed him through the strangled cries, before receiving the grateful peppered kisses across his face as well as the fervent speeding up of Marco’s hand on his dick, and with a tight, slick stroke—he came undone too, spilling onto Marco’s stomach and fingers, his friend’s name on his lips.

As they shivered there, the dislodged sheets did nothing to keep the cool air off their sweaty skin. A tremor ran up Jean’s spine and he collapsed closer to Marco’s warmth, pressing another kiss to his lips.

Marco pressed one back, sighing, and raised his hand to cup Jean’s face—before he suddenly stilled. “Uh, Jean,” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“…I have your jizz all over my hand.”

“Uh.” Jean’s eyes refocused from their blissful haze, bringing his own hand up to look at the viscous fluid coating his palm and fingers. “Me too. Uh. Should we…?”

Marco swallowed. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Nodding, they both exited the bed, keeping quiet as they reached the bathroom and used wet towels to get fixed up. Things seemed a little tense, until Marco glanced over, smiled, and knocked his bare hip against Jean’s.

Jean stumbled, then grinned back.

“You know,” Marco said, still taking in that smile, “I think we got a little on the sheets.”

Jean’s eyes darted toward the bed, and his grin stretched wider. “Guess we’ll just have to avoid that spot. Good thing we know how to share small spaces so well.”

* * *

 

The next day, Jean and Marco seemed substantially more tired than the rest of the students as they walked through the museum.

Then again, they smiled almost constantly, hands brushing against each other and then entwining.

**Author's Note:**

> So, can you tell which line was my ("obvious") favorite to write? I'll understand if you had a different favorite part, though, haha.
> 
> This fic is thanks to tumblr user Coliei's prompt, "AU in which Jean and Marco are roomates on a school trip and forced to share a very small bed." It was really fun to write!
> 
> And now, not that I think anyone's too concerned, but I just have to write a secret santa thing, then get to Benvenuto~ I don't think I could ever get tired of writing these dorks. If you want to talk to me about any of these, I'm angels-in-your-angles on tumblr. :)


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